


Destinies Collide

by TheQuaintrelle



Series: Intertwined Destinies [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Also I know i said Merlin is there, Child Neglect, Gen, I'm not sure about the rating btw, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Is that spoilers? Probably, No beta we die like illiterates, Pre-Canon, Pre-Hogwarts, Sorry?, What Else Do I Tag?, Writer is not a lawer so bear with me, but better safe than sorry, but there's a twist, implied/referenced memory alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuaintrelle/pseuds/TheQuaintrelle
Summary: Michael Wright believed himself to be a good person. He paid his taxes, was polite to his neighbors, friendly at the workplace, and made regular donations to charities he became involved within his line of work. He believed himself reasonably aware of good and bad characters, which is why he had a feeling Vernon Dursley was of the latter sort and was not very enthused about the dinner invitation.Harry didn’t like it when people came to visit. Uncle Vernon was always more mean, Aunt Petunia kept shrieking about everything being perfect so they could impress whoever’s visiting, and he always got locked in his cupboard early.An ordinary dinner might be all that's needed to intertwine two not-so-ordinary destinies into one.
Relationships: Merlin (Merlin) & Harry Potter
Series: Intertwined Destinies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942816
Comments: 66
Kudos: 136





	1. An Eventful Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this story posted on FF.net around four years ago under a different pen name and randomly decided to rewrite it and edit out the more cringy parts, this is the result. Enjoy?

**July 19th, 1988**

Michael Wright believed himself to be a good person. He paid his taxes, was polite to his neighbors, friendly at the workplace, and made regular donations to charities he became involved within his line of work. On the other hand, his line of work was the law, which for many might sour his argument on goodness. Still, as a self-proclaimed decent member of society, he believed himself aware of good and bad characters, and a reasonably sharp judge of it, which is why he had a feeling his current client was of the _latter_ sort. Michael’s work at Macfarlanes is usually with private clients, which is why he finds himself slightly wrongfooted in attempting to lay out the terms of a merger along with a representative from Grunnings - and a new one at that, given he does not remember his past dealings with the company being as unpleasant.

“I’m not sure about this, Mr. Dursley” he held back a sigh and attempted to mentally word an argument as to why the offer was not acceptable in a way that didn’t tell his client it would be acting in bad faith.

He’d learned in the past two hours that Mr. Dursley took exception to being referred as anything other than a pillar of society, nevermind that the supposed offense was an offhand comment on the number of employees being replaced as opposed to incorporated into the company, which would prove both time-consuming _and_ wasteful.

“I advise you to reconsider” Dursley insisted, propping large hands on the desk before standing from the chair and looking down on him “Why not come by the house and discuss this over dinner, tomorrow night? It’s a big deal, boy… unless you think you can’t handle it? I’m sure your boss could assign someone more _experienced_ for the job.”

“Of course I can handle it,” Michael assured the man, not taking as much offense to his workability as he probably hoped. Truth is, while some of his clientele was quite similar to Mr. Dursley, his preferred cases were pro-bono, of which he had the highest amount in the company, and thus left him unused to following the whims of big businesses and their representatives. Unfortunately, to be able to continue taking as many pro-bono cases as he liked, he had to continue dealing with less than desirable _paying_ clients.

“Then it’s settled, I’ll let Petunia know to expect a guest” The man smiled in satisfaction and walked out before Michael could get a word in.

“Wait, I didn’t mean-” he attempted anyway but to no avail. With a sigh, he let his shoulders drop and ran a hand through his dark hair. If Dursley thought being fed would make him blind to the joke of an offer their company wanted to present, he had another thing coming. Macfarlanes may do many things, but knowingly negotiate in bad faith is _not_ one of them.

There was, at least, a good side to the end of that meeting, he noted as he parked his car in the garage of the large house, and it was that he was able to get home earlier. Not that there was anyone, in particular, waiting for him, at least not until morning when Marie would come by to tidy things up and prepare a week’s worth of meals. Other than that, there was nothing but a large and empty house left for him after his mother’s passing. Uncaring of his solitude, Michael went through the motions of washing himself and reheating some dinner, the long hours of the week seeming to catch up to him, and, soon enough, he’d fallen into a restful sleep.

Proper rest would _definitely_ be necessary if he hoped for the dinner in the following day to be anything close to tolerable.

* * *

**July 20th, 1988**

Harry didn’t like it when people came to visit. Uncle Vernon was always more mean, and Aunt Petunia kept shrieking about everything being perfect so they could impress whoever’s visiting. At least it’s not Aunt Marge, he thought as he dipped his hands on the cold water from the sink to grab another plate to wash. Not even the nice plates, but the ugly ones from lunch with all the flowers in vomit-green, he’d have to finish washing them before cleaning the nice ones for his Uncle’s important dinner, and would still have to help Aunt Petunia cook it! Visitors always, _always_ gave him more and more chores, that’s why he didn’t like them. Besides, he always got locked into his cupboard early when there were important dinners, and sometimes Aunt Petunia forgot to let him out until the next day, without even going to the bathroom. So yes, Harry _really_ wished people would stop visiting his Aunt and Uncle, and maybe Dudley, his friends were even worse and he didn’t like playing with them, not when all they wanted to play was Harry Hunting and he was the only Harry in the street. _It wasn’t fair!_

“Wash faster, boy!” his Aunt’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard behind him and he flinched, dropping the plate into the sink “That had better not be broken!”

Harry hurriedly grabbed for the plate, raising it back up to show it was whole, glad the water hadn’t let it break. He wouldn’t want to upset his Aunt today. Well, he never wanted to, but it seemed like all he could do sometimes.

“Oh, look at the mess you’re making,” his Aunt said instead of being happy about the plate, and Harry looked down to see water going from his hands down to his arms and then dripping to the floor, starting a little puddle under the stool he had to use to reach the sink “shoo, out! Go grab a mop, _now!_ ”

Harry nodded and got down from the stool, taking care not to slip in the puddle, and ran off to find a mop. Aunt Petunia hadn’t been happy about anything yet, so he knew he was better off not talking back, or not talking at all.

He’d just got the mop from his cupboard - his Aunt said it was faster to sleep with the cleaning things, since he’d use them when he woke up anyway - when Dudley ran past him, zooming around with a toy plane and muddy shoes. _Oh no…_

“ _Boy!_ ” He turned around to find his Uncle glaring at the floor and back at him.

“’m cleanin’ it” Harry quickly put his head down and walked to the start of the mud patch by the door, his body feeling like a plank of wood, really hoping Uncle Vernon wouldn’t get more mad.

He barely raised his head as he finished his other chores, he ended up cleaning _all_ of the floors again because Aunt Petunia didn’t think it was shiny enough, then he cleaned the nice plates with the gold on the sides and all of the tall cups before helping Aunt Petunia with the roast. The smell of food made him want to steal just a little piece, but his hands were still hurt from the last time he tried and Uncle Vernon had put them right on the hot stove, it hurt so bad he didn’t even want to try getting food again. Maybe if he did really, _really_ good, Aunt Petunia would let him have some before going to his cupboard, it happened sometimes, but not much.

It felt like forever until Aunt Petunia told him to shower and get ready to sleep, he didn’t take long - Uncle Vernon said water’s _really_ expensive - and was soon in his too-big pajamas, handed down from Dudley like all his clothes were. Aunt Petunia looked at him with a pinched face when he walked into the kitchen, and he felt his body go cold.

“What are you doing here? Go to your room!” Aunt Petunia pointed at the cupboard “Mr. Wright is almost here and I don’t want you laying about!”

Harry opened his mouth to ask about dinner, but before he could say anything, a big hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backward.

“You heard your aunt, boy” Uncle Vernon shoved him towards the cupboard a bit too hard, but luckily Harry fell on top of his mattress “Away with you, and don’t you _dare_ make a sound or you’ll be sleeping in the backyard!”

The cupboard door closed with a bang just as Harry pulled his knees to his chest and he heard the clicking that told him it was locked, like every time someone visited. He sighed and laid back on his bed on the floor, curling up on his side and watching the little light that came in through the gap under the door.

Harry really, _really_ didn’t like visitors.

  
  


* * *

Privet Drive was unnervingly uniform, with too-similar houses lined up side by side as the picture of conformity, at last in the point of view of someone that’s lived in a colorful and ornate neighborhood all their life. Michael parked his car - an Aston Martin V8 he’d indulgently acquired due to a love of speed and a weakness for James Bond movies - in front of number four and made his way to the door, which opened barely a second after the doorbell was rung.

“Mr. Wright, welcome!” Mr. Dursleys greeted him with a smile, moving to the side as he holds the door open “Come in, let me introduce you to my family.”

A thin, long-faced, blond-haired woman with a long neck and a thin-lipped smile was introduced as Petunia Dursley, while a smaller version of Vernon Dursley, lacking a mustache and with blond hair instead of brown, was introduced as Dudley Dursley. Michael privately found it a rather unfortunate name, but doubted the boy’s size - seeming to follow his father’s example - left much room for any bullying to take place.

Small talk was made over dinner, in a mutual decision to enjoy the food before talking business, and while Michael could think of better company - and with _much_ better jokes - he did enjoy the food well enough. Unfortunately, as Mr. Dursley would discover after the meal, not enough to change his work ethics. They were well into an argument, making use of the living room for dessert when a knocking sound brought Michaels’s attention out of the matter at hand. Glancing to the side, he failed to notice the other man’s face reddening as the sound was repeated, slightly more urgent.

“Aunt Petunia I _really_ gotta go!” Michael turned his head from the door, where he'd assumed the knocking had come from, to the cupboard under the stairs.

“Tuney!” Mr. Dursley called, but Michael was still looking at the cupboard door, frowning slightly. He snapped out of it when Mrs. Dursley descended the stairs “The boy managed to lock himself in the cupboard _again._ Get him out, would you?”

The request brought his attention back to Mr. Dursley, who looked quite upset, his face had acquired a faint purplish tone and his eyes were narrowed at the door. Petunia opened it and there was an exchange of whispered words before Michael saw a boy walking out of it. He was small, looking around six years old, with messy dark locks and round-framed glasses, wearing clearly too-big clothes and no shoes at all. Michael barely caught a glimpse of something inside the cupboard - were those drawings? - before the door snapped closed and the boy was running upstairs, shoulders hunched and head low but with the tight lock on his legs that told he really needed to go to the bathroom.

“Don’t mind him” Mrs. Dursley turned on him with a smile more plastic than the one he’d been greeted with, which he considered quite a feat “boys like to play in the strangest places” she added with a shake of the head.

“Is he your son?” He asked, still not sure what to make of the whole scene except for nothing good. Mr. Dursley looked offended at the question.

“Nephew” He answered in a tone Michael interpreted to mean it was an unfortunate fact instead of familial pride, which made him wonder what such a young child had done to deserve it.

“My sister’s son, we kindly took him in after she and her husband passed away” Mrs. Dursley elaborated

“My condolences” He offers, to their dubious acceptance.

The conversation moves on, with Petunia moving upstairs a few minutes later. There were no further signs of the boy and in half an hour Michael is escorted to the door by Vernon Dursley, promising to think on what they’d spoken about. It’s not until he’s sitting behind the wheel and ready to leave that his mind goes back to the child from the cupboard. Had he been there the entire time? Dinner was served just a room away, he would have heard the cupboard door opening or closing, and after the meal, they’d spent a few hours in the living room in full sight of it. Not a sound had been made until the urgent knocking, which led to Petunia opening the door. For all of Mr. Dursley’s claims that the boy locked himself in, it had been easy to spot the key in his wife’s hands, and he wondered if they thought him stupid or merely inattentive, when he is neither. Something is rotten at the Dursley household, and he can’t help but want to figure out what.

The sight of the boy’s bright green eyes, which he’d barely caught a glimpse of as he left the cupboard, hardly leaves his mind for the remainder of the night.

  
  


* * *

**July 21st, 1988**

Harry knew he shouldn’t have bothered his aunt last night, but he _really_ needed to go to the loo, and Aunt Petunia would have been mad if he made a mess in the cupboard like last time. It was his fault for forgetting to go before going to bed anyway, so he didn’t complain when Aunt Petunia took him to the garden by the ear and told him not to come back in until she couldn’t see another weed in it, and everything was watered. It would be hard, his wrist was hurting from landing on it wrong after Uncle Vernon got mad about him bothering his important talk, but he could do it before lunch for sure.

He was halfway through weeding around the rose bushes, barely feeling the prickling from the thorns anymore when he heard footsteps coming close. He kept his head down, hoping his aunt would see what a good job he was making of it, maybe she’d let him have a fruit or a sandwich before lunch if he did really good. He wasn’t really thirsty, the water from the hose took care of that, but he was starting to feel a bit hungry already.

“Hi there, little guy” a voice surprised Harry and he fell back from his crouch and to the ground, looking up and over the fence to unfamiliar blue eyes. It took him a moment to notice the man was talking to him, and another to realize why. He didn’t know if he should talk, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always told him to be quiet and not bother people, but the man was talking to him so it couldn’t make them mad if he answered.

“Hi,” he noticed he was still on the floor and stood up, but didn’t clean his muddy hands on his shorts, he’d be in trouble for that “Uncle Vernon‘s not here,” he told the man since that’s probably why the man form the important dinner was talking to him.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually” the man’s answer makes Harry’s eyes widen slightly, the man couldn’t be mad about him interrupting dinner, could he? “What’s your name? Mine’s Michael”

“’m Harry” he mumbles, glancing around and at the house. If Aunt Petunia saw him talking instead of working he’d be in so much trouble.

“Nice to meet you, Harry” The man leaned on the fence, crossing his arms over it, and Harry wondered if he could go back to his work while the man talked “You like working in the garden?”

“’s alright” he answered while kneeling back down in front of the rose bushes, flinching slightly when his wrist twinges at the weight he puts on them.

“Is something wrong?” the man asks, and Harry shrugs, squeezing his wrist a bit so the pain would go away before going back to his weeding “where did you hurt your wrist, Harry?”

“Fell on the stairs” He replies without looking up, not sure why the man would care.

“Do you fall down the stairs a lot?”

“’m clumsy,” Harry said, though it’s not really true. He’s been pushed more times than he’s fallen, but he can’t tell the man about that.

He told a teacher once. Miss Davies was nice, she always told him he was too small and would let him spend his lunch break with her in class instead of having to run from Dudley and his friends, so when she asked about the bruises Harry told her Uncle Vernon had been mad and pushed him a _bit_ too hard. She asked about some other things and, a couple days later, his Aunt and Uncle came back from school furious with him, yelling about him lying to a teacher and how he should get the belt for talking bad about them. He did get the belt, but just a couple times because Uncle Vernon didn’t like to hear crying, and he got locked into his cupboard all day the next day. On the next Monday, he went to spend the break with Miss Davies and she had a talk with him about lying and how he should spend the lunch break with his cousin from now on because family was important and they needed to get along so he would stop being jealous of him. She wasn’t nice again later, and he started spending his lunch break in the library instead.

“Alright” the man didn’t sound like he believed him, but not a lot of people did, so it was okay “what about the cupboard, can you tell me why your relatives locked you inside?”

“No sir” Harry raised wide eyes to meet the man’s, shaking his head in denial “they didn’t, really.”

“It’s alright, I won’t talk to them, you can tell me the truth” Harry looked back at the house, then back down at the bushes again. He didn’t understand why the man was asking so many questions.

“Why?” He asked as he looked up once again

“Because I’m working with your Uncle, so I have to know about his family, but only if it’s true. That’s why I won’t ask him, I know he’d lie, but I don’t think you really want to lie, do you?” the man explained, and Harry looked down with a small frown.

“How d’you know I’m lying? Or if Uncle Vernon’s lying?” He didn’t think Uncle Vernon lied much, he was always so sure of everything, so Harry always thought all he said was true. Well, almost all he said. He’s pretty sure Dudley’s only fat because he eats too much chocolate and doesn’t do any sports, not because he’s a growing boy. They’re the same age, so he’d also be a growing boy, and he’s not fat at all!

“I’ll tell you a little secret,” The man said, and Harry looked up in curiosity “I always know when someone’s lying to me, it’s my superpower”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise and his voice fell to a whisper “Uncle Vernon says powers ‘n magic aren’t real though.”

“He was probably lying, then,” the man says as if calling Uncle Vernon a liar wasn’t the worst thing in the world to do, but he’s just as tall as Uncle Vernon so maybe he’s not as scared of him as Harry is “so if you tell me about the cupboard, and about falling down the stairs, I’ll know it’s true. Say, I think I saw some drawings in the cupboard, were they yours?”

“Aunt Petunia says I can keep them there!” Harry says in defense of his drawings, but his voice is too loud and he looks at the house for a moment, making sure no one’s coming to look at the noise, before continuing “they’re too ugly for the fridge, but I get to keep them in my cupboard, even if Uncle Vernon doesn’t like it.”

“Your cupboard?” The man is frowning a bit when Harry looks up again, but he’s not looking at him, just at the house.

He pulled out a few more weeds just so it won’t look like he’s slacking, wiping his forehead with his arm since his hands are all dirty. The man said his superpower knows when he’s telling the truth, and if Uncle Vernon lied about powers, then he can’t be mad Harry didn’t know about it, can he?

“’s my room” He shrugged, “Aunt Petunia says I better sleep with the cleaning stuff ‘cause I’ll use it in the mornin’ anyway, Dudley needs the other room for toys”

“And the stairs?” Harry looked up at the tone, recognizing when someone was on their way to being angry, he’d had plenty of practice watching out for it.

“Uncle Vernon just pushed me ‘round a bit, ‘m not lying” he insisted, not sure why the man was getting angry at him “Dudley does it too, but he jus' thinks it’s funny, Aunt Petunia told him to stop though ‘cause I almost broke something”

“I know you’re not lying, I’m not upset with you” the man assured, “you almost broke a bone?”

“No?” Harry frowned in confusion “almost broke the… thingy” he motioned with a hand since he couldn’t remember the name, before remembering he shouldn’t flap his hands about “on the stairs. Aunt Petunia doesn’t mind if I hurt if I can still do chores”

“Oh” the man took a deep breath, the next question coming a moment later “What about chores, which ones are yours?”

“The garden” Harry started by the most obvious “dishes, dusting, floors, folding clothes, cleaning Dudley’s toys, uh- cooking? I help, cut stuff ‘n all that. Can’t cook ‘cause I can’t see inside the pans yet”

“That’s a lot, what does your cousin do then?”

“Homework?” Harry answered, not sure what else Dudley did besides lay about on holidays and do homework when they had school.

The man looked about to ask something else, but Harry paid no attention because just then there was a noise from the house behind them. Harry sat up straighter, realizing the noise had been the door opening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually halfway through writing it already but I'll post the next chapter a little later so I can proofread it XD


	2. Sudden Changes

He could claim to hardly believe the child’s words, but it was all too easy to tell he was being truthful. Michael had woken up with troubled thoughts and decided to postpone any merge paperwork to instead look into the Dursley family, with a special focus on their nephew. A stop by Grunnings with the excuse of double-checking the written reports - which he did end up doing if only not to waste time in another visit later - told him Vernon Dursley sometimes complained about his good-for-nothing nephew to employees, often using the child as a comparison if any delivered subpar work.

He could hardly look into their school, which Mr. Dursley bragged about his son’s outstanding grades for an eight-year-old, given it was not in session at the time, but talking to their neighbors was also an option, which is what eventually brought him to the Dursley’s garden once he caught sight of their nephew working on it, no gloves on sight. He was still not sure of the boy’s age, but one of the employees had implied he was the same age as the Dursley’s son, which in itself was worrying given the child’s size. He was just about to ask on the topic of meals when the sound of a door opening had him looking up.

“Boy, are you don- Oh, Mr. Wright” Mrs. Dursley’s shrill tone softened somewhat at the sight of him, and keeping his disgust from showing in his face was probably the hardest feat he’d ever accomplished “What brings you back so soon? I hope my nephew wasn’t disturbing you”

“Not at all, I was just in the neighborhood and saw these beautiful roses. I was asking him how they stay so healthy” He lied with ease, though he _had_ been in the neighborhood.

“Oh, he wouldn’t know about that” she waved a hand dismissively “I only have him weed the garden, hard work is good for building character”

“You’re right, of course” he nodded in agreement, figuring she’d never done a hard day’s work in her life then, to develop such a character, “Harry said as much, but unfortunately I must leave. I only stopped by at Eliza’s for an early lunch”

He had not, but he did learn that Elizabeth, one of their neighbors, hated Petunia and would sooner spit on her than hold a dialogue, so it was as good an excuse as any. Besides, it was worth it to see the woman’s smile grow colder, probably wondering if his association with her next-door neighbor would influence his opinion of them. As if it could get any lower.

“Of course, It was a pleasure to see you again” She offered.

“Likewise” he returned politely “Do tell Vernon to expect a call by Friday, at the latest” he added before leaving without a second look towards the child. He doubted a goodbye would help the boy’s standing with his aunt.

He entered his car and let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his head rested back on the car seat. He had enough information to bring to the Social Services Department, but something told him he would need more assurance than a simple investigation. He couldn’t possibly be the only one to notice something was wrong. In fact, Elizabeth had mentioned the authorities visiting the house before, once after her own call, but nothing had come of it. No, whatever in him that seemed to push him towards the boy was telling him to act with a better, _surer_ plan of action.

With that in mind, he started the car towards the closest library.

  
  


* * *

**July 24th, 1988**

Harry woke up to the knocking of wood on wood at the door of his cupboard, and Aunt Petunia yelling at him to get up already and help with breakfast. He didn’t change out of his pajamas before following the order, hurrying to the kitchen. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been in a really good mood since the day before when Uncle Vernon got an important phone call - which he knows because he accidentally made some noise while taking the folded laundry upstairs - but that could change any time, so he made sure to go fetch the eggs when his aunt told him to and got up on the stool to watch the bacon while she woke Dudley up. He wouldn’t complain, just the smell was great and he was sure he’d get at least some of it if nothing happened to make them mad again.

Uncle Vernon took until the middle of breakfast - where Harry got to eat a toast with eggs and a piece of bacon and even some milk! - to come to the kitchen, and he was smiling. It wasn’t even those mean smiles he gave when Harry realized he was in trouble and he knew it, but one he saved for when things were going really good at his job. Harry didn’t trust it though and shoved the rest of his bacon down like Dudley usually did, swallowing the rest of the milk before Uncle Vernon could even think of taking anything away.

“Tuney, you should start on that chicken of yours for lunch, it takes a while, and Mr. Wright will be joining us to sign the contract,” Uncle Vernon told her, and went on to brag about something that Harry decided to tune out as he got up and picked up the used dishes to wash.

He remembered Mr. Wright, that was the man that asked him about the cupboard and the chores, and he was happy to know he hadn’t talked to Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia about it, at least it didn’t look like he did since Harry spent the rest of the week with only two threats of the belt instead of wincing every time he sat down.

Aunt Petunia ended up making him stuff the chicken, and it was kind of gross, so that’s probably why she didn’t want to do it in the first place. He didn’t have to do much else for lunch besides cut the stuff that went into the chicken, so his aunt told him to go clean the table after Uncle Vernon finished eating and dust the low shelves in the living room, then go clean Dudley’s toy room.

Dudley had gone off to play with Piers after breakfast so Harry didn’t have to put up with him complaining about the Freak touching his toys, and Harry could play - but just a little bit so he wasn’t caught - with some of Dudley’s toys while he cleaned. He didn’t like the toy fighters with silly masks or the cars but thought the toy train was really cool and liked to make up places he’d go to if he could just get into a train and leave. He’d pick up Dudley’s little toy soldiers and put them on the train, send them off to have awesome adventures like the characters in Dudley’s books. He liked the books, and Dudley almost never read them, so he sometimes sneaked one into his cupboard and read it at night, or when he got locked up for too long.

“Harry!” Uncle Vernon’s voice made him drop the toy train and his eyes widened in fear, picking it up and looking it over before realizing it wasn’t broken anywhere.

He ran out the door in a hurry then, because his uncle never called him Harry, just Boy or Freak, and hoped really hard that it didn’t mean he was very mad at him. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Uncle Vernon was red in the face and glaring at some people in the living room. He didn’t know any of the people, except-

“Hello, Harry,” Mr. Wright smiled at him, and he didn’t want to be impolite, it always made Aunt Petunia would be upset, so he smiled back.

“What lies have you been spreading this time, boy?” Uncle Vernon asked, making Harry’s whole body go cold and still “wasting the good people’s time, I say”

“We’ll be the judges of that,” a stern-faced woman said, walking closer to him “We’d like to ask you some questions, Mr. Potter. Would that be alright?”

He glanced at her before looking at Uncle Vernon, who had his meanest look on and shook his head a bit. The woman in front of him sighed and he looked back to see her watching Uncle Vernon too.

“If you would please join your wife in the kitchen,” She said, but Harry didn’t think her request had left much choice at all. He watched a large-shouldered man, that he also didn’t know, follow his uncle to the kitchen, and then the woman was looking at him again “My name is Helen Jones, Mr. Potter, and I need you to answer a few questions for me. Come, let’s sit.”

He didn’t want to move, he wanted to run back upstairs and stay very quiet and pretend he wasn’t there for Uncle Vernon to find with his belt when everyone left. But he couldn’t do that, so he went with the woman to the couch.

“It’s alright, Harry, you just need to tell them what you told me,” Mr. Wright said, and Harry’s head snapped to the side to glare at him.

“You said you wouldn’t tell!” He couldn’t believe Mr. Wright had done this, he promised!

“I said I wouldn’t talk to your relatives, and I didn’t” Harry blinked, was he lying just like that? “I talked to the Social Services Department, and _they’re_ the ones talking to your aunt and uncle.”

“Why?” He asked, confused but figuring the meant that he’d talked to these other people he’d brought with him.

“Because they’re wrong, and someone needed to do something about it” Mr. Wright answers, sounding so sure that Harry can’t help but believe him a little.

“Mr. Potter, would you like me to send Mr. Wright away before starting with the questions?”

He looks at Mr. Wright, but he doesn’t do anything to tell Harry the right answer, not like Uncle Vernon. The woman could probably make him leave like she did with his uncle, but… he didn’t want her to, for some reason. He shook his head and tried not to move much when all her attention was on him, he didn’t like the feeling at all, it was so much better when people didn’t see him. When people don’t see him, they can’t be mad with him.

  
  


* * *

Watching Mrs. Jones interrogate the child was an exercise in self-restraint, and Michael should probably be awarded a medal for not storming into the kitchen and trying to cause at least a fraction of Harry’s pain back on his relatives. Besides all he’d heard at the start of the week, they also learned Harry was often given the bare minimum of food, if not outright denied, and while thankfully nothing of sexual nature had ever been done to him, it was a small mercy given everything.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, that’ll be all for now,” Mrs. Jones said, pulling him out of his musings as she turned off her tape recorder and put away her notebook, standing from the couch “Murray, are you done?” She called towards the kitchen.

“Just about!” Came the man’s answer, followed by the sound of chairs scraping on the floor, and the man came out of the kitchen followed by the Dursleys “As we’ve discussed, an investigation has been started and the case has the possibility of reaching the court, which will allow you legal representation, but only then, given this is not as of yet a criminal investigation unless the law enforcement becomes involved.”

“So you’re not taking the boy?” Vernon Dursley asks, and Michael does not appreciate the man’s angry expression, no matter how restrained due to the current company.

“Not without a court order, but we will be making a follow-up visit in the next week, without warning” Mrs. Jones assured the couple, to little change in Mr. Dursley’s disposition.

He risked a glance at Harry to find the child looking at nothing in particular, but with such resignment in his expression that constricted his heart. That was the face of a boy who’d hoped before and had it shattered, he realized. Good thing Michael was not solely dependent on the SSD’s actions. He watched the two workers leave without moving away from the couch, waiting until the sound of the front door closing reached them before opening his briefcase in his lap just as the couple turned away from the door.

“What are you still doing here?” Mr. Dursley bellowed, and he noticed Harry flinch at the sound, which only hardened his resolve.

“I have a proposition for you” He answered, grabbing six slips of paper from the briefcase before closing it “We could let this be dragged into court, doubtlessly wasting both valuable time and money, as well as allow your reputation and career to take quite a plunge if, let’s say, the media took an interest in the case”

“Or?” Mr. Dursley asked in a venomous tone as he stepped towards the couch, no doubt expecting some form of monetary extortion.

“Vernon-”

“Let the shark speak, Tuney” Mr. Dursley cut off his wife’s protest “no harm in hearing him out”

“Or you could both sign these” Michael held up the papers “granting me temporary guardianship of Harry for the next year, as well as a motion for permanent custody to be filed at my discretion once a suitable guardian is chosen. I’ll tell the SSD the matter’s been resolved, and when the custody hearing comes, I’ll make sure it’s as discreet as possible.”

“That’s it?” Mr. Dursley sounds surprised “you take the boy off our hands, no catch?”

“I’d strongly advise Grunnings to maintain our firm on retainer but place a request for an alternate legal representative” He adds because he would rather not lose the business, but definitely did not want to deal with Vernon Dursley for longer than strictly necessary “that’s all I ask. No monetary compensation will be asked for at any later moment, and my fees are already covered by the company.”

“Deal” Mr. Dursley doesn’t even hesitate, and Michael wished he had not expected as much.

“Vernon, what about the- letter?” Mrs. Dursley questioned in a worried tone.

“We won’t need anything from those freaks if the boy doesn’t even live here anymore” Mr. Dursley was quick to reassure her, and Michael narrowed his eyes at the exchange “good riddance, I say. Where do we sign?”

Michael stood, with one last glance at Harry’s clearly confused and worried expression even though he clearly wouldn’t dare speak, and walked with them to the dining table, presenting the papers to the couple. Three copies of the same petition for temporary guardianship, already passed by a close friend of his who happened to be a judge and only lacking the current guardians’ signatures, while the remaining three were copies of the petition for permanent custody, lacking not only their signatures but the information on the guardian-to-be as well. While temporary guardianship had been reasonably easy to arrange through less conventional means, change in custody to a non-parent can only be granted at a hearing, but it’s not bound to be any trouble when the previous guardians have nothing against it.

“There,” Mr. Dursley said after signing the last dotted line.

“I will, of course, be needing any of Harry’s belongings as well as any remaining belongings of his late parents before I take him off your hands” He reminded them, placing the papers back in his briefcase.

Mr. Dursley only motioned towards the cupboard before walking to the kitchen, and Michael could hear him muttering about needing a celebratory beer. Mrs. Dursley was looking at the briefcase, seeming conflicted, but seemed to pull herself together when he cleared his throat.

“I’ve got nothing of theirs, there’s probably some stuff on the old house back at Spinner’s End if the house wasn’t ransacked by the local delinquents, but it’s not mine and if the boy inherited it, I didn’t hear about it” She informed him “his things are in the cupboard, be quick”

He let his distaste show in his expression as he turned his back to her, refusing to thank such a woman for anything, and moved back towards the couch, kneeling in front of Harry.

“Harry, I need you to do something for me,” he said in a soft tone, given the boy had leaned away when he came close. He waited until green eyes met his before continuing “I need you to go to the cupboard and grab anything you want to keep. You won’t be coming back here.”

He could tell the moment his words registered in the child’s mind, eyes widening in hope and awe as if a miracle had just been performed in front of him. For all Michael had learned that morning, it might as well have. He watched the boy nod rapidly and run to the cupboard, grabbing things noisily and, if the ripping of paper was what he thought, pulling his drawings from the walls. It took barely a minute before the boy was back, all of his belongings folded inside a sheet and bundled up in his arms. He reached to help Harry carry it but aborted the motion at the slight tightening of the child’s arms around the bundle.

“Good,” he declared, grabbing his suitcase “goodbye, Mrs. Dursley. Do let your husband know I hope to never see him again” he declared, motioning for Harry to follow him to the door. The child walked subduedly a step behind him, and they made it to the car before he spoke another word.

“Am I going to the orphanage?” the soft tone was still full of worry and fear, no matter how glad the child had seemed to be about leaving “Aunt Petunia said that’s where bad boys go, and Uncle Vernon said it’s nightmare stuff- I don’t wanna go to the orphanage, Mr. Wright, please”

He could see the tears starting to well up in Harry’s eyes and quickly crouched down in front of him, not touching him but not looming over him either.

“You’re not going to the orphanage, I promise” He assured, “did you hear what I talked about with- them?”

“I-I don’t get it,” Harry answered, sniffing slightly and seeming to hold his breath for a moment.

He would need to assure him it was alright to cry. Actually, he had a feeling he’d need to assure Harry of a great many things as soon as possible. But not out in the middle of the street.

“I made them sign a paper that says I’m your guardian, at least for now” he explains “that means you’ll be living with me for a while, so no, you won’t go to an orphanage Harry”

“Oh” was apparently all the child had to say on the matter, and he got into the car in silence after the door was opened for him.

Michael watched Harry put on the seatbelt without prompting and closed the passenger door, sliding into the driver’s seat a moment later. He’d done it, he thought as it finally sunk in. He took Harry away from his abusive relatives. And apparently acquired himself a temporary ward, he realized in a more conflicting mood. He knew very little about children, never having planned on one of his own - though he wasn’t sure why his mind was so made up about it - and considering himself too young to think of any other arrangements given he’d only just turned twenty-seven, but there were no regrets in his mind at this course of action.

He glanced to his side at Harry, noticing the child leaning against the door with heavy eyes, and nodded to himself. He’d done the right thing, and they’d be just fine for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best at proofreading but I know I slip from past to present tense sometimes so if anyone feels like pointing out a mistake I definitely wouldn't mind.  
> The next chapter is in the works, will probably post soon.


	3. Set to Rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the next chapter, a bit longer than I planned.

Harry woke up to the door opening, blinking the sleepiness away as he climbed out of the car. He never got to ride upfront before and was a little sad he'd missed it, but the car only had two seats so he might get to do it again, right? Though any thoughts and sleep went right out of his mind when he looked at the house they’d parked at, and his very wide eyes quickly turned to the neighbors’ homes as well, taking in all the sizes and colors. Every house seemed to have a different color, and they were all so big and tall, at least two times as big as Aunt Petunia’s! Mr Wright’s had white and blue colored wood and big, strange windows that seemed to come all the way out of the house before going back in¹ instead of just being on the wall.

“Come on, let’s go in” Mr Wright’s call snapped Harry out of it and he hugged his things a little closer, walking behind the man.

He almost couldn’t believe Mr Wright had taken him away from the Dursleys, and not even to an orphanage! Instead, he was walking into a big, bright house, not even knowing what he had to do. He stopped in surprise at the big living room, with lots of white on the floor and the walls, and blue couches spread around a big fireplace. Mr Wright really liked blue, he thought while looking around. When he looked at Mr Wright again, he was already halfway up the stairs and Harry hurried to catch up, careful not to run but walking quick.

There were a lot of doors upstairs, and Harry was curious about what could be inside the rooms but knew better than to ask. They stopped in front of one of the doors, the fourth one, he counted. Mr. Wright opened the door, walking in, and Harry followed after him.

“You’ll be staying here” Harry could only blink up at the man, confused.

It was a big room, bigger than Dudley’s, with a pretty soft blue on the walls and a big bed in the middle of it with dark blue curtains around it and white sheets and fluffy-looking pillows on top. There were square windows on both sides of it, not like the ones downstairs, with the curtains open to let the sun in, and a big wooden box was put right in front of the bed, like the ones Dudley kept some toys inside. There was also a wardrobe in front of the wall on the left and on the right one was a desk with a chair, and a dresser too, closer to the door they came in through. There were even some bookshelves on the wall in front of the bed, with some books on them but not even close to full. It was such a pretty room, Harry thought, maybe Mr Wright went the wrong way?

“It’s a room,” he said, a little sad that Mr Wright would remember who he was and correct himself now.

“Yes, your room” Mr Wright insisted, making Harry a little upset.

“Freaks don’t get rooms,” he told the man, not sure how he didn’t know this already.

Harry looked up, watching as Mr Wright seemed to realize something, and waited for the directions to the cupboard, or the attic, Aunt Petunia sometimes told him she’d make him sleep in the attic if he made too much noise. Instead of talking, Mr Wright walked out of the room. Harry fixed his hold on the bundled up sheet in his arms and followed behind a moment later. They went to the other side of the corridor, two doors in, and opened it. Harry frowned at the sight of dark walls with a lot of bookshelves and a big brown desk with an armchair behind it and two in front of it. This wasn’t it either, was Mr Wright okay? He almost asked, but Mr Wright had started opening drawers and Harry thought maybe he was looking for a key or something like that.

“Aha!” Mr Wright seemed to find what he was looking for, and Harry was glad he managed not to jump at the loud sound, watching the man pull a little box out of a drawer and sit down on the chair behind the desk “here, sit down, we’re going to… play a game. You can put your things there” he pointed at one of the two armchairs in front of the desk.

Harry didn't like games much, at least not the ones he’d played before. Maybe Mr Wright’s game doesn’t hurt, he told himself and made his legs move, but didn’t let go of his things when he sat down on the armchair. Mr Wright opened the box and turned it so the things inside would fall, and Harry watched a bunch of red pins, like the ones he saw on the corkboard on the school corridor, fall out of the box and spread on the table.

“Now, what… oh” Mr Wright reached for something on the wall and pulled a tiny corkboard, or at least tiny compared to the one at school since this one looked the size of a big notebook on top of the desk. He took the stuff pinned to it out and put it to the side, leaving the corkboard empty. “Now, take some of these” he put a few pins in front of Harry, who couldn’t be more confused “here’s how the game goes: We’re going to talk about something we don’t agree on, and when we start, we put a pin on the board” Mr Wright picked up a pin and stuck it on the corkboard to show him, “if while we talk, we find something else we need to talk about before the first thing is solved, we put another pin on the board” he picked up another pin and put it next to the first one. “We need to remember what the pins are for, and when we decide on something, we take off the pin” he took both pins out, putting them back on the desk “when we talk about something, you’ll tell me what you think and I won’t get mad, and I’ll tell you what I think, then we’ll both think about what we said and figure out what makes more sense. Got it?”

Harry nodded numbly, head reeling at the idea of the game, especially when Mr Wright said he wouldn’t be mad about things. He could lie and say what he thought Mr Wright wanted to hear, but- Mr Wright’s superpower would tell him Harry’s lying, so he couldn’t do that. Maybe he really wouldn’t be mad? Harry could only hope.

“Now, we’ll always try to take off all the pins before leaving, but in case something happens and we can’t, we’ll write what the pin is about on a piece of paper and get back to it whenever we can” Mr Wright added “alright?”

“What’s it called?” Harry asked, not sure if he should, but all games have names, right?

“Wha-oh, well, let’s call it… Pin-It” Mr Wright smiled slightly “unless you can think of a better name?” when Harry shook his head, Mr Wright picked up a pin “now, I think you should sleep in the bedroom I picked for you.” he put the pin on the board.

“Freaks don’t get rooms” Harry explained again, frowning a bit.

“Why do you think you’re a freak?” Mr Wright asked, putting a second pin on the board.

“Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia say so” Harry mumbled “I do freakish things, so I’m a freak”

“What did they call freakish things?” Mr Wright put the third pin on the board and Harry wondered if they’d ever leave the office. But he had to answer, and he couldn’t even lie!

“Aunt Petunia tried to put an ugly jumper on me, and it got more small every time she tried,” Harry said in a low tone, not really wanting to talk about it “and one time she cut almost all my hair off, and it was all back the next day. Uncle Vernon said I did something freakish to get him in trouble with his boss too, and Aunt Petunia says my parents were freaks, so I’m a freak too”

Mr Wright frowned and Harry looked down at his lap, sure that now the man got it and would be sending him off to the cupboard. He jumped when something hit the desk and looked up to see a really big book in front of Mr Wright.

“You know what a dictionary is?” When he nodded, Mr Wright opened it, eyes narrowing at the book as he turned the pages “here we go. Freak: someone who looks strange or behaves in a strange way” he peered down at Harry, who shrunk back on his chair “you look pretty normal to me, Harry. Now, about the things you say happen around you, I think I can find a different name for that” he starter turning the pages of the dictionary again before stopping on another word “here, it means ‘special powers that can make things happen that seem impossible’, do you know what I’m talking about, Harry?” he shook his head again “I’m reading the meaning of the word ‘magic’”

“Uncle Vernon says there’s no such thing as magic” Harry points out.

“Is your uncle always right?” Mr Wright asked, pinning the fourth one.

“He says he is,” Harry shrugged.

“What if he said… the sky is green?” Mr Wright suggested, raising one brow, and Harry smiled just a bit at the silly question.

“It’s not true,” He said, shaking his head.

“How do you know?” Mr Wright asked, and Harry thought he’d never answered this many questions ever, not even at school.

“‘Cause I can _see_ the sky, it’s blue, ‘cept when the sun’s going away, then it’s pink n’ orange n’ yellow n’ then black” Harry explains.

“So you know it’s a lie because you’ve seen it, but what if he lied about something you have no way to know about? Like magic?”

“So magic’s real?” Harry’s eyes widened.

“It could be, growing back your hair sounds pretty magical to me,” Mr Wright says and Harry’s hand immediately moves to his hair, looking hopeful “so how about we forget that word your uncle used, and call it magic instead? Is that alright?”

Harry can only nod.

“Great!” Mr Wright says, taking off a pin “so we agree that your uncle isn’t always right, that’s one pin off the board. And now we agreed that there’s no freakish things, just magic, so that’s two pins” he says, taking off the other “and what do we call someone that does magic?”

“Magician?” Harry whispers, legs bouncing in place as this man he only just met seems to want to turn everything he knows on its head.

“That’s right, so what are you, then?” Mr Wright asks with a smile.

“I’m a magician?” Harry answers with a small, unsure smile of his own.

“Exactly!” Mr Wright says, taking out the second to last pin “and I think magicians need bedrooms, don’t you?”

“I- um- yes?” Harry stutters out, eyes slightly wide, and grip loosening on his things as he leans back on the armchair.

Mr Wright didn’t think he was a freak, he thought he was a magician! And Mr Wright had superpowers of his own, so maybe he was right. Maybe Harry did have special powers too, that sounded too good to be true.

“Mr Wright?” He called a moment later.

“You can call me Michael, y’ know? Or Mike, my friends call me Mike” Mr Wright said as he took the last pin from the board.

“W-what if I’m not a magician?” He asked, past the fear pooling in his belly. What if he wasn’t what Mr Wright said, just a freak, and he was wrong?

“Well, then that's okay too” Mr Wright smiled “you don’t really have to know it right now, not even grown-ups always know who they are. I do know that you’re a child, and children sleep in bedrooms, and so you need one too. How about that?”

He looked down at his little grey sheet wrapped around everything he had. The room was so big, the _bed_ was so big, Uncle Vernon would say he’s wasting a good room on him. But… maybe Uncle Vernon didn’t have to be always right, maybe he could sleep in his own room, just for a bit. Mr Wright did say he was only here ‘for now’, so maybe he would go somewhere else later, and could have the room for now.

“Thank you” Harry mumbled, not really sure what else to say. Mr Wright looked a little mad, and he almost said he didn’t _really_ need the room, but when he was about to say it Mr Wright started talking again.

“You’re welcome, Harry” he watched Mr Wright get up from the chair “come on, let’s get you settled”

  
  


* * *

“Why don’t you put your things on the bed and I’ll show you where everything goes?” Michael suggested, not yet over being thanked by providing a child’s basic need. Oh, the temptation to go back to the Dursley household was almost too big, but he had more important things to focus on at the moment.

He watched as Harry hesitantly placed his bundle on the bed and unfolded his makeshift sheet bag to show the contents inside. He could see a couple of shirts, looking as big and worn as the pajamas the boy still wore, a pair of trousers and some shorts, along with underpants and socks that had clearly seen better days, and a pair of worn black sneakers. The clothes seemed to be most of the sheet’s contents, leaving only a small pile of folded papers and a couple of plastic toy soldiers. Hell probably had a special place reserved for this boy’s relatives.

“You can put your drawings anywhere you like, and you can keep the clothes on the wardrobe on the dresser, whatever’s easiest to reach,” Michael told the boy, he’d organize things himself but had a feeling the child would not feel comfortable with him taking his things from him at the time “you can put your toys on the chest by the bed, and your shoes go on the shoe rack” he pointed at it, sitting empty under the bookshelves. He could tell Harry might need some time alone, and he really needed to talk to Marie and explain some things “I’ll let you put your things away, and you can meet me downstairs for lunch, alright?”

Harry nodded and he took it as his cue to go, leaving the door slightly ajar before making his way back down to the living room. So much had happened already, it was hard to believe it was barely past midday. He stepped into the kitchen to see the white-haired woman waiting for him, hip leaning on the kitchen island and arms crossed over the front of the yellow apron.

“So?” Marie prompted, looking at him expectantly.

“He’s putting his things away in his room,” Michael said, sighing and running a hand over his hair “if they can even be called that. The few clothes he has are old and too big, I’m pretty sure they were his cousin’s before, and only one pair of shoes, I- how can people treat a child like that?”

“You can hardly call them people” She shook her head and placed a hand on his arm “you did the right thing, she would be proud of you. So am I.”

“Thanks” He smiled slightly, knowing she was right. His mum was one of the best people he’d ever known, always happy to help those in need, she would have been the first in line to slap some sense into Harry’s family if she was still around.

Marie Fellowes had been with them since he was a child himself, working on the house and as his nanny when his mum was busy at the studios and dinner parties he only got to attend when he was older, she was just as much a part of the family as he was. Hearing she was proud of him felt just as good over twenty years later as it did before.

“Now go get some plates and help me set the table, I’m not as young as I used to be” She instructed with a pat to his arm, letting go of it to grab a bowl from the kitchen island and walk out towards the dining room.

“Lies and slander” he replied with a chuckle, going to grab the plates.

The table had a little bit of everything, with both chicken and meat, rice and mashed potatoes, two different beans, and some roasted vegetables, and he had to smile at Marie clearly having gone all out in an attempt to cook something the boy would like. He appreciated the effort, even if he had a feeling Harry was unlikely to refuse any given food, at least for a while. With his thoughts back on Harry, he decided to check on the boy and walked into the living room to see him just coming down the stairs.

“Did you finish settling in?” the boy only nodded, so he continued “come here, I want to introduce you to someone, and then we’re having a late lunch.”

He waited until Harry reached him to make his way back to the set table, watching Marie place the last utensils and turn to them with a smile.

“Hello, darling” She greeted with a smile “I’m Marie, it’s lovely to meet you”

“Y-you too, ma’am” Michael could easily hear the nervousness mixed with curiosity in the child’s voice.

“Marie is a friend, she used to be my nanny and the housekeeper, but now she just comes around to cook way too well and nag me into eating” He explained with good humor, earning a slap on the shoulder for his trouble. He caught Harry’s flinch at Marie’s action and held back a sigh “If she’s around and I’m not, you can ask her for help with anything”

“With that said, let’s eat” Marie prompted, taking the seat on his left.

He’d already sat down and put his napkin on his lap when he realized Harry had yet to move from his initial position at the entrance.

“Harry? Is something wrong?” He asked, noticing Marie had also focused on the child.

“I can’t eat yet, I didn’t help” Harry explained, and Michael froze, wondering if he’d ever stop getting angrier at his former client.

“You don’t need to earn your keep here, Harry. Marie does the cooking, she’s paid for it” though he knows the pay is hardly why she sticks around “you just have to sit down and enjoy the meal, and thank her once you’re done.”

Harry still didn’t move and was instead looking at Marie, who was quick to smile at him.

“He’s right, I quite like my job young man. If you want you could help me take the dishes back once we’re done?” She offered.

“Alright” he still seemed confused but sat down on the chair to Michael’s right, looking at the napkin for a moment before glancing at their laps and copying its placement.

“Now, tell me what you’d like to eat so we can fill that plate of yours, you’re much too skinny” Marie requested, for which he was glad. She was much more used to children, and Michael’s head was still getting around the fact that he’d acquired one of his own for the time being.

“A-anything’s fine, really” Harry answered quickly “I don’t eat a lot, I promise”

Michael clenched and unclenched his fists on his lap before cutting into whatever response Marie was about to give - though by her look she was much too stunned to say anything at all.

“Harry, do you see how much food there is on the table?” He waited for a nod before adding “If we don’t eat it, it could go to waste, so there’s no reason not to eat. So what I want you to do is eat anything you’d like until you can tell me you’re not hungry without lying, can you do that?”

“Anything?” Harry asks incredulously

“Anything, but I’d like it if you ate at least some vegetables, they’re good for you” he assured and proved it by grabbing a spoonful of mashed potatoes “here, would you like some?”

“Yes sir” Harry answered with a little awed nod, and he went on to offer some of each dish until the bottom of the boy’s plate wasn’t visible anymore.

Marie’s proud smile was only overshadowed by her clear upset at having to explain to a child he’s allowed to eat. Lunch goes by quickly after that, and while Harry didn’t refuse most dishes, he’s sure Marie’s already filed away the fact he seemed to like mashed potatoes a lot more than rice and ate his carrots a lot earlier than the peas. Michael himself kept an eye on the boy’s plate, and whenever Harry seemed unsure about eating more, he asked if he was still hungry. It was amusing to see how the child believed wholly in his power to tell truth from lies and didn’t answer until the third time he asked. Once Harry was done, he immediately got up and tried to take Marie’s empty plate from when she’d finished earlier than the boy.

“I can take this one, dear,” she told him “you can help by bringing your own plate, fork, knife, and cup up to the kitchen, but that’s all. And don’t argue with me.”

He watched with some amusement as Harry seemed to swallow a possible response and nod, grabbing the requested items. Michael himself gathered his dirty dishes and a few empty bowls to take to the kitchen as well, following behind the two. Once the table had been emptied, he called Harry to the side and left Marie to her work.

“Harry, are you tired?” he asked as he moved their conversation over to the living room, setting himself on one of the comfortable couches and watching as Harry hesitated before sitting on the one facing him.

“No Sir, I can work, I promise” Harry was quick to answer, and Michael sighed at not explaining himself very well.

“You don’t have to work, I just wanted to know if you were up to go shopping. You need more things since you’re going to be living here” he explained, and Harry started to shake his head.

“I don’t, really” He seemed eager to assure, and Michael’s heart broke a little at the sight “I won’t be expensive at all, I have stuff already”

“You’re not-” he paused and held back a sigh, standing up instead “come with me to the library, let me show you something”

Harry followed without question, and he wished it didn’t bother him as much as it did. He entered the room on the opposite side to the kitchen and dining room, moving towards one of the large, filled bookshelves, and browsed a few of the titles before finding the small book he was looking for. He sat down on the closest sofa and patted the spot by his side. Harry seemed a little nervous but sat down by his side quick enough.

“Do you know what laws are?” he saw the boy nod, but that wasn’t enough “tell me, then.”

“It’s rules and if people break them, the police arrest them,” Harry said, in more of a questioning tone than he’d like.

“That’s right, and these rules most of the time keep people from doing bad things, but some people just ignore the rules and they’re wrong. The Dursleys ignored a lot of those rules, can you read these for me?” he asked, offering the book open on a specific page, not sure if the boy could read already or not, he didn’t quite remember at what age he’d learned to read.

Harry looked at the book with bright, curious eyes and nodded, so Michael let him put it on his lap. He did notice that even with his glasses, Harry seemed to squint at the words for a moment before reading.

“De-cla-ra-tion of the Rights of the Child” Harry started and went on to read the ten following principles that made it clear that the Dursleys were not following most of those rules.

Michael explained each right as it went, simplifying the legal language for the child, and watched as he looked blankly at the book once they reached the end of the page. He was starting to feel a little worried, and was about to speak when he startled as Harry stood up and ran from the room, the book falling to the floor, entirely forgotten as he hurried to follow. He could now hear hiccups in the distance and paused in front of the stairs at the sound of Harry’s bedroom door being forcefully closed.

“What happened?” He heard Marie ask and turned to see her hurrying to his side.

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s long overdue” Michael admitted with a shrug that didn’t do anything to disguise his worried tone.

Marie huffed.

“You take care of this boy, Mike” she instructed, giving him a little push towards the stairs “I’ve got a feeling you’ll be good to each other.”

He blinked as she simply turned and left after that cryptic statement, but he had more to worry about at the moment and chose to go up the stairs instead of asking what she could possibly mean by that. Reaching the door to Harry’s room, he knocked softly on it.

“Harry? May I come in?” He asked, not sure if his presence would be welcome or not.

“‘S yo-our ho-ouse!” Came the answer in between hiccups, and he opened it just slightly.

“But it’s your room, and I won’t come in if you don’t want me to unless I think you’re in danger” he declared, not doing more than peek into the bedroom to find the boy’s curled up figure wedged between the bed and the nightstand, kneed pulled up to his chest as he sobbed into them. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong”

“T-they t-took it!” the loud answer from the usually subdued child startled him, and he took a step into the room “I-It was _mine_! I c-could have it a-all the time a-and t-they t-took it a-and no o-one said-” the yelling was lost to indistinguishable sobbing and Michael’s heart broke a little more, no batter that he didn’t understand exactly which right the child was so upset about. Not that he shouldn’t be, but it would be easier to reassure him if he knew exactly what was wrong.

“What did they take, Harry?” He asked, walking a few steps closer and kneeling in front of the crying child.

“M-my n-name!” The answer was muffled against the boy’s arms, but he could hear it loud and clear.

“Oh,” he spared a moment to curse the Dursleys to the ninth circle of hell for the tenth time that day, before softly placing a hand on the boy’s arm “com here, Harry” he requested, and the boy limply let himself be pulled into a hug not solely to his comfort “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he whispered into his hair, letting the child’s sobs shake their bodies and his tears soak into the fabric on his shoulder “You’ll never go back there again”

“P-promise?” The tone was filled with reluctant hope, as were the green eyes which suddenly met his.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹: bay window, he hadn't seen those before.  
> Writing this I found out that my story is set before the UN's Convention on the Rights of the Child. Huh.  
> Also, fair warning, I haven't even started the next chapter so I'm not quite sure when the next update will come.


	4. Nocturnal Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected because I was 2000 words into the chapter before I realized I'd messed up my own timeline and had to start again, sigh. Anyway, enjoy!

Harry didn’t think he’d had a hug before, not one he remembered, he thought once his chest didn’t seem as tight and he didn’t feel like his hiccups would make him choke. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always avoided touching him, unless he did something wrong, and he thought he’d remember feeling so warm and safe. If this was what hugs always felt like, it was no wonder Dudley always glued himself to Aunt Petunia after the smallest upset. He really didn’t want to move, but then he remembered he’d just yelled at Mr Wright, a bunch of times! Oh, he was in so much trouble.

“Sorry” he mumbled, scrambling back and ending up with his bum on the floor, looking up at Mr Wright.

“Don’t be, it’s alright,” Mr Wright said instead of being mad, and it was so weird, but not bad. Harry didn’t mind the kind of weird that didn’t end with a belt on his bum “What did you mean, though? You said they took your name?”

Harry sniffed and looked down at his hands on his lap, feeling more sad than mad like he’d been when he ran off. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn’t call him Harry when he was small, just ‘boy’ or ‘freak’, then he was five and had to go to school and when the teachers called his name, he didn’t know it. He told them, but when Aunt Petunia came to the school she told the teachers he was playing and being silly, but he really didn’t know! He had a name all that time, and they took it away, and no one did anything, and it wasn’t fair! Of all the things they did that broke the rules from the book Mr Wright showed him, he hated them the most for this one. His mum and dad gave him his name, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shouldn’t have taken it away. He doesn’t look up while he tells this to Mr Wright, not sure he’ll even believe him, but his superpower has to tell him Harry’s telling the truth, right? Maybe he’ll be the one that believes him.

“I don’t know what to say except that I’m sorry you ever had to live with those people” is what Mr Wright says when he’s done talking, and Harry looks back up to see him looking angry.

He doesn’t like angry adults, at least not when they’re mad at him, but Mr Wright wasn’t even looking at him so maybe it wasn’t about him? Maybe Mr Wright was mad at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon too? but Harry didn’t know why he’d be mad, it was so long ago and it wasn’t about Mr Wright’s name anyway, but for whatever reason it was, it made Harry feel a little better, thinking someone else was angry too. But he had his name for three years now, that was a lot of time too. Maybe he was being silly.

“It’s not silly,” Mr Wright said, and Harry’s eyes widened as he realized he’d been mumbling out loud “it was your name, you can be as upset as you want. But you’re never going back, so don’t let them make you so upset you can’t enjoy that.”

“I won’t,” he said, not wanting to let his Aunt and Uncle have anything else of his. They’d taken enough already.

“Good” Mr Wright smiled, and Harry thought he looked like when Dudley told Aunt Petunia he’d read a whole book on his own, but why would Mr Wright look proud of him or all things Harry wasn’t sure “now, I know today’s been full of a lot of changes, so if you want to stay in and rest, we can always go shopping tomorrow”

“’s okay” Harry shook his head, he didn’t go shopping before unless it was for groceries with Aunt Petunia, and maybe if he left it for tomorrow Mr Wright would change his mind like Uncle Vernon did sometimes, so they should go now “can we go today?”

“Of course we can,” Mr Wright said, standing up. Then his hand was reaching for Harry and he flinched away before realizing Mr Wright wanted to help him get off the floor and was now looking more upset.

“Sorry” he mumbled, taking the hand to help him up.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong” Mr Wright assured him “now let me show you to the bathroom so you can take a shower before we leave.”

* * *

**July 26th, 1988**

Harry never understood why Dudley liked the days Uncle Vernon took him to work with him until he was being walked around a huge office by Mr Wright, holding on to his hand and trying not to hide behind him too much when Mr Wright kept introducing to more people than he’d ever met in his life.

Mr Jacob was the first person Harry met, he worked in front of the building and only let people who worked there walk into the elevators. Mr Wright told Mr Jacob to keep an eye out for Harry if he wandered out of the building, but he was quick to tell them he really wouldn’t, he promised. Mr Jacob smiled and let them go up, with Mr Wright pressing the button for the 7th floor on the elevator.

“And who’s this little guy?” A pretty woman with red hair was looking at him when they stopped in front of one of the large offices and Harry froze, looking up at Mr Wright.

He never had to introduce himself to adults before, most of the ones he met had already heard all about him from Aunt Petunia.

“This is Harry, he’s my ward,” Mr Wright said, and Harry wasn’t sure what that meant but it made the woman’s eyes widen and narrow up at Mr Wright “Harry, this is Sarah, she pretty much runs my work life.”

“Not enough of it, you found time to get a child,” She poked Mr Wright in the chest but it didn’t look like it hurt, since he chuckled. She then looked right back at him “It’s very nice to meet you, Harry” she held out a hand.

It took him a moment to realize she expected him to shake it, and he did his best to copy what Uncle Vernon did in his important meetings.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am” He answered, and it was probably right since she smiled, but then she moved her hand at his face and he couldn’t help but flinch, missing the look exchanged between her and Mr Wright. 

“Sorry” He mumbled, but she probably heard it since she smiled again, saying it was fine. She had a pretty smile, much prettier than Aunt Petunia’s, not that he’d ever had those directed at him.

“You can ask her for anything you need if I’m busy, she usually sits right there” he pointed at a little cube-like office in front of the glass wall “If she’s not there, just wait on her chair, got it?” Mr Wright asked and Harry nodded “come along, let me show you my office.”

They walked past Sarah’s cubicle and into the office behind the glass walls, it was bigger than he remembered Uncle Vernon’s being from the photo in their living room, with beige walls and dark furniture, including a very comfy looking couch Harry got led to. There were pictures on the walls, with people on them, but he couldn’t see them all and probably didn’t know the people anyway, and that thought was pushed out when Harry realized the couch was as soft as it looked.

“You can tell me if you’d like to leave any time, alright?” Harry’s eyes widened, they’d just got there! Mr Wright chuckled and continued “I don’t mean right away, since you didn’ want to stay home, but I’m not sure here will be any fun either. So if you get too bored, just let me or Sarah know and we’ll walk you outside for some air and a snack or something. If you still want to come back tomorrow, we’ll get you something to pass the time.”

He wasn’t sure what the right answer was, but… He didn’t want to be all alone with Marie at Mr Wright’s house, even if that might be silly of him, so he nodded. Mr Wright had taken him away from his Aunt and Uncle and he was nice and believed Harry when he said things, so he wanted to be around Mr Wright whenever he could.

“Great!” Mr Wright smiled, and Harry was starting to find it easier to smile back.

What followed was a tour, with Mr Wright showing him to the books and magazines around the office and where some snacks were stored so he didn’t have to go to the break room. Mr Wright had a record player near the shelf, and he told Harry he could pick what music to listen to if he wanted, so long as it wasn’t very loud. In the end, he sat down by the centre table with some printed out activities, a lot like the school ones he remembered, and a few papers to draw on if he wanted to, though Mr Wright didn’t have coloured crayons yet.

Harry tried to only pay attention to his things, he really did, but sometimes Mr Wright would talk on his phone and he couldn’t help listening in. Mr Wright got lots of calls, Harry realized, and he seemed to help a lot of people with a lot of things. He also seemed really busy, so Harry tried his best not to bother him. He was good at that, being quiet. He did look at Mr Wright when he went to grab a snack, but he didn’t seem to mind it so Harry went back to his work while munching on custard cream biscuits.

Sarah tried to take him to see the rest of the office, but Harry liked it better in Mr Wright’s office and didn’t really want to leave. He did finish the printed activities after a while and didn’t want to draw more, so Mr Wright let him pull up a chair by his desk and watch him work. Harry didn’t understand a lot of it, but Mr Wright explained things well and told him how he was helping a woman get money for losing her job in a way that wasn’t fair, just because her boss didn’t like women working on big jobs as other people’s boss. Harry thought it was a really silly thing to not like, and Mr. Wright agreed. When they left the office that night, Harry knew he wanted to come back the next day. It had been fun to see how Mr Wright would help people like he helped Harry.

  
  
  
  


* * *

**July 29th, 1988**

“Your four o’clock is here” Sarah’s voice made Michael pause his explanation on medical malpractice to the boy sitting on his lap.

“Have them come up, please. It should be quick” he told her, before turning his attention back to the explanation.

Harry had been coming with him to the office since Monday, and besides a brief and strained conversation with his boss, nothing much had come of it. He would leave him with Sarah to go to meetings and, when in the office, humor Harry’s growing amount of questions as he realized he would not be punished by voicing them. Harry seemed genuinely interested in his explanations of his work, and whether it was because Michael was the first adult to treat him decently or an actual growing interest in law, he wasn’t about to complain, especially since brainstorming his cases out loud sometimes helped him think through them better. All in all, things seemed to be going well, though he would soon need to introduce Harry to other children so he could have friends to enjoy his summer break with instead of staying with Michael at the office all the time.

“They’re here” Sarah announced a moment later, and Michael looked up with a smile at the couple walking into the room. He noticed Harry tensing in his lap, but not sliding off of it.

While most clients were met in one of the available meeting rooms, this couple, in particular, were his friends as well as clients. He’d met them when working a pro-bono for wrongful dismissal and working closely with the wife to prove one of her coworkers had been wrongfully dismissed. When the case was won, she ended up in a higher post and they kept in contact. Since then, they’ve grown a lot and keep him on retainer for any legal work necessary for their clinic.

“Oh, Michael, who’s this little darling” The woman walks into the room in a beeline for Harry. Michael locks eyes with her husband as they chuckle.

“Jean, meet Harry, my ward” He introduces with a small push to Harry’s back which finally has him sliding off Michael’s lap and to the floor in time to shake the woman’s hand “Harry, these are Hugo and Jean Granger” He adds as he stands up himself, walking around the desk to be greeted by a hug from Jean before turning to shake Hugo’s hand, only to see someone else hiding behind his legs “hi there, Hermione” he adds with a smile.

“She refused to stay home when we mentioned stopping by,” Hugo explained with a smile.

“I just wanted to say hello” The small, bushy-haired eight-year-old explained in an annoyed tone, stepping away from her father’s legs “hello Mr Wright!”

“Hello” He repeated with a chuckle “you wanted to look at some books, didn’t you?”

“Pretty please?” She asked with a sheepish grin, made more adorable by the empty space between her teeth where her canine was supposed to be.

“Let me introduce you to someone first, maybe you can look at books together” He answers, waving Harry over “Harry, this is Hermione, why don’t you show her to the bookcase?”

He watched as Harry and Hemione shily interact on their way to the bookcase for a moment longer before turning back to Mr and Mrs Granger.

“I’m glad you brought her, I’ve been meaning to introduce Harry to more children, and this way he’ll already know someone in his new school” Michael confided.

“You’re enrolling him in Blossom then?” Hugo questioned as the couple sat on the chairs facing his desk while he took back his seat behind it.

“Most likely, yes” Michael answered, leaning back on the chair “Kensington isn’t too far off my way, and I know most of the staff. He’ll probably be glad not to go back to St. Grogory’s, since I couldn’t drive to Surrey every day.”

“I’m interested in hearing about how you came to have a ward in the first place,” Jean pointed out with narrowed eyes.

“That’s… a bit of a long story” He admitted, and proceeded to explain the situation.

  
  
  
  


* * *

**July 30th, 1988**

Harry was still getting used to the big room he now slept in. In fact, he was still getting used to a lot of things. Regular meals and physical contact that didn’t hurt being a few of them. He could even ask for things now, when he wanted them, and Mr Wright didn’t even mind all the questions while he was working. He’d even made a friend! Well, at least he thought Hermione was his friend, he wasn’t sure since he’d never had one before. But she was nice and liked reading even more than he did. All of the changes in the last few days sometimes kept him awake at night, worrying it was all a dream or just being so, so glad for them, which is why he was still awake near midnight to hear a tapping against his window.

Harry sat up on his bed, looking around for the source of the sound, but it was too dark. He got up and walked a practiced path to the door until his hand hit the light switch, brightening all of the room.

_Tap tap tap_

It seemed to come from the window on the left side of the bed, and Harry tip-toed towards it, not sure what could be causing the noise. He pulled the curtains slightly to the side to peek out-

And immediately fell on his bum with a yelp.

Standing again, he got the curtains out of the way to reveal a big brown owl standing on the flower box outside the window.

“Shoo,” he said, with the accompanying hand motion. It didn’t move “What are you doing there?” he whispered, unlocking and opening the window. It took him a moment to realize there was something by the owl, a letter sitting on top of the flowers “...did you bring that?”

He blinked, then picked it up, looking at the back to see if the owl had maybe made a mistake. ‘Harry Potter’ was written on the back of it in shiny red ink, but nothing else, not even an address. He shrugged and moved back to the bed, glancing at the owl still standing by the window before ripping it open.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_Mum said the letter will get there after midnight, I wanted to say happy birthday before everyone! I know you’re busy with lots of adventures with dragons and mermaids, but I hope you read this, even if you never answer._

_Happy birthday!_

_Ginny Weasley._

Harry frowned and put down the letter, not sure about what he’d read. It was almost his birthday, he knew that from the clock on the wall pointing to eleven forty-five, but he didn’t know any Ginny Weasley and definitely wasn’t having adventures with dragons and mermaids.

The owl was still there, he realized after a moment before walking back to the window.

“Why won’t you go away?” He asked it as if it would actually answer.

Surprisingly, the owl did fly off the window, and Harry followed with his eyes as it took to the sky. Only when he looked back down did he realize it hadn’t been the only one.

The tree next to his window was filled with owls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try not to take so long to post the next one.  
> 


	5. Happy Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, and thank you again balloongal247 for reminding me Harry's birthday is on the 31st and not 30th, I've corrected it in the previous chapter as well.
> 
> (I've also checked my math and realized I messed up the year and corrected every date in the story to 1988 btw, I think now I got it right)

**July 31st, 1988**

_Tap tap tap_

Harry burrowed further under the covers and pressed the pillow over his ears. If he ignored the birds, they would go away, right? He thought with a sigh, pressing his eyes closed and pointedly ignoring the noise.

_Tap tap tap_

“Go away!” He whisper-shouted at the window, shoving the covers aside. This wouldn’t work.

Harry stood up again and opened the window, seeing a different owl had taken the place of the last one on the flower box. It was actually a very pretty owl, with white feathers in her face and belly and brownish ones on her wings and in a circle around her face. But Harry still wanted it to go away before his guardian woke up to the insistent tapping, and he needed some sleep himself.

“Shhh!” He put a finger to his mouth when the owl hooted as if it would understand him. It didn’t do it again, so maybe it did.

The owl did pick up the letter on top of the flowers and pointedly held it out to him. Harry sighed and took it, watching the owl as it seemed to wait instead of fly off again. He jumped back on his bed and opened the letter, again only simply addressed to ‘Harry Potter’.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_I read your last book today because Pansy wouldn’t shut up about it, and it’s really fun but I don’t think it’s true because you’re supposed to be the same age as me and even if you have some super special magic, dragons are a XXXXX beast and really hard to fight, magic doesn’t work on them as easy as on other beasts and they have big teeth and huge wings and are a lot bigger than I am, so you’re probably small next to it too. I know a lot about dragons, they’re my favorite! And there’s one in your book, so does that mean you like them? If you do, we could be friends and go to a reserve to see some, then I could tell you all about them!_

_Father says you’re not going to answer because famous people get lots of letters and can’t read them all, but I think you should read my letter anyway so I can tell Pansy you did and she’ll be jealous. I’m not being mean, she did it first when she bought the book before me and didn’t let me read. So please answer me so I can know you read my letter, and tell me if you want to go see dragons with me, I’m sure father can take us, he can do anything, the other day I wanted to see a game of quidditch and father came home with tickets for a Puddlemore game!_

_Oh and happy birthday! I’ll tell Cito to be even faster so you get my letter first thing, Cito is my owl and mother says her name means quick so she’s the quickest owl around. I’ll tell her to wait for you to answer, maybe give her a treat before she flies back since we don’t know where you live and she might be tired from flying._

_Best wishes,_

_Draco Malfoy._

Harry was still looking at the letter when the tapping started again, and he saw the owl- Cito tapping her beak on the wooden frame of the open window.

“Uh, I don’t have any treats,” He told the owl, looking around his room.

Even if the letter wasn’t for him, it wasn’t fair to leave Cito hungry, he decided. Standing from the bed, leaving the two letters behind, he went to open his door and tip-toe downstairs. The house was mostly dark, but the light in the kitchen was on, so the stairs weren’t very hard to see. Harry didn’t think to question the state of the lights until he stepped into the kitchen, squinting slightly at the light, and found himself under a curious look from Mr Wright, who was doing- something.

“Still up, are you?” Mr Wright asked, putting a large bowl down on the kitchen island, which had some packages open on top of it. Harry spotted flour and chocolate before Mr Wright spoke again “or did something wake you up?”

“Didn’t sleep yet” Harry answers a little nervously, glancing around the kitchen. He knew he could eat, Mr Wright kept reminding him he didn’t have to do anything to earn it, but he wasn’t sure what kind of snack an owl would like.

“Well…” Mr Wright glanced up at what Harry figured was the clock on the wall before continuing “given it’s already past midnight, I wish you a very happy birthday” he smiled at Harry “how does being eight years old feel?”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a smile before shrugging “the same?”

“Fair enough” Mr Wright looked down at whatever was in the bowl and then back at Harry “it’ll hopefully feel sweeter once this cake is done, I was planning on making it for breakfast but I might have to wait for Marie”

“A birthday cake?” Harry’s eyes widened slightly as he stepped closer to the kitchen island.

“It’s supposed to be” Mr Wright smiled sheepishly “but I think I’ve missed something. I don’t suppose you’d know what?”

Harry tried to see what was inside the bowl and couldn’t quite reach it, but suddenly he was lifted up by the waist and deposited on top of the counter next to an egg carton. The bowl had a brown batter inside but it looked clumpy and hard, not like you could pour it. Looking at his new sitting place, he saw sugar, yeast, and oil there too.

“I think you’re missing the milk” Harry pointed out, having seen Aunt Petunia bake cakes before.

“Oh… right you are” Mr Wright moved to the fridge to get the milk, and once he added it the batter looked more right “wait, did you come to get something from the kitchen?”

“Um…” Harry hesitated, not sure what to say. He could ask for a cup of milk but he didn’t think owls drank milk. Maybe they liked cookies? He could ask Mr Wright what owls ate, but then he’d know Harry wanted to feed an owl and ask about it, and he’d have to tell him about Cito and all the owls outside.

“It’s alright if you want a snack before sleeping, Harry. Or some hot chocolate? I could make that” Mr Wright assured, and Harry felt guilty about wanting to lie to him about the owls.

It’s Mr Wright’s house after all, and… Harry didn’t think he’d be blamed for the owls, not like Uncle Vernon blamed him for every little thing. Owls are their own animals and Harry can’t tell them what to do, so there’s no reason for him to be blamed for it. He didn’t do anything freakish. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“There’s an owl in my window” He admits, kind of ignoring the offer even if hot chocolate sounds great.

“...what?” Mr Wright paused his pouring of the batter into a cake pan.

“Uh, there’s owls. Two had a letter, I think they all have?” Harry fidgeted with his hands on his lap “I dunno who they’re for, but there’s lots of them on the tree outside my window”

“That’s- strange” Mr Wright finished pouring the batter and moved with the pan to the oven.

“The letter says the owl needs a treat” Harry adds since Mr Wright didn’t seem mad, just confused “what do owls eat?”

“Meat” the oven closes and Mr Wright starts putting the ingredients away “I think there’s some chicken we didn’t use for lunch in the fridge, let me cut that up and we can go check on those owls of yours.”

Harry watched Mr Wright cut a few pieces of chicken and put it into a little bowl before asking to be shown to the owls. He walked up to his bedroom while Mr Wright followed and hoped the owls were still there, he didn’t want to look like a liar. Once they came in, Harry was relieved to see Cito was still on the flower box, though there was another owl by her side with a letter on its beak.

“Oh my” Mr Wright blinked in surprise at the sight before walking a little closer “aren’t you beautiful, can I take that?” he reached for the letter, but the owl moved away.

Harry walked closer too, holding out his hand, and they watched the fully brown owl move closer again and drop the letter right on it before hooting and flying away.

“Curious” Mr Wright pointed out, watching Cito, who was peering interestedly into the bowl “oh, yes, here you go” he pulled out a chicken strip and held it up to the owl, who happily gobbled it up. He then turned back to Harry “well, let’s have a look at those letters then?”

Harry glanced at the back of the new letter, once again only seeing his name on it, before handing it to Mr Wright and fetching the other two. Mr Wright opened the third letter and pulled out a small piece of the same strange brownish paper he’d seen in the others, along with two coloured, smaller pieces that looked like tickets to something.

“What in the world is quidditch?” Mr Wright asked, putting them aside before moving on to the opened letters. By the time he was done reading, another owl was already on the flower box next to Cito “this is quite peculiar, I don’t suppose it could be someone playing a prank?”

“I think my relatives would say it’s… freakish” Harry points out since they’re the only people he could think might want to prank him.

“Nonsense, it’s simply very unusual, but people do use birds to communicate sometimes” Harry took Mr Wright’s word for it since he’d never heard of such a thing “still, I suppose you’re right. And training owls for delivering letters seems very time consuming for a simple prank, doesn’t it?”

“I guess” Harry shrugs, looking back at Cito as an idea struck him “I could answer it? And say I think the owl found the wrong person” his voice diminished as he spoke, not as confident as he’d started.

“It’s a good idea,” Mr Wright said, bringing a smile to Harry’s face “There’s no harm, and the Malfoy boy’s letter did say his owl was waiting for a response, unlike the others.”

With that settled, Mr Wright fetched Harry some envelopes and paper, while he grabbed one of his pens. The work turned out to take longer than they thought it might since more owls just kept coming after the ones already there left, and at some point, Harry leaned into Mr Wright’s side where they were both working on the letters and ended up falling asleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Michael was glad most of his Saturdays rarely saw him in the office, given the letter business had kept him up past a reasonable hour. It did make for an interesting read, with letters varying from complimentary tickets to something named quidditch and requests for sponsorship to birthday wishes from people Harry had clearly never heard of, most of them mentioning his parents in one form or other, and thanking Harry for apparently vanquishing… someone they should apparently already know the name of, given he was only referred to as “you-know-who”.

They did not, in fact, know who.

The whole ordeal was quite puzzling, to say the least, but their response letters would hopefully shed some light onto this conundrum. Most letters had been from children, a few referencing some sort of book and magical creatures like dragons and mermaids, and some from apparently grateful adults and varied well-wishers. He hoped for at least a few replies, if only to let them know the letters had reached the wrong person, but he wasn’t sure how long those would take to arrive.

It should at least prove amusing to tell Marie what the leftover chicken had been used for.

“Comin’” He heard Harry’s sleepy voice after knocking on his door. He’d put the boy to bed after he fell asleep on his side while they read the apparently infinite amount of letters the night before, but it was now nearing lunchtime, and Harry should wake up to enjoy his own birthday.

“Good morning, sleepyhead” Michael greeted jovially “ready to commemorate your birthday? We’re leaving in half an hour to have lunch with the Grangers.”

“Oh” Harry looked surprised but smiled all the same “thank you” he seemed to wake up fully once his mind processed the warning, running right back inside before coming back and smiling sheepishly at him “good morning” he answered belatedly and promptly closed the door.

Michael shook his head with a smile and went to find the car keys.

They met up with Jean, Hugo and Hermione at a nice restaurant in Kensington, and he watched as Harry took in their hugs and birthday gifts with a surprised sight of someone who’d probably never had a birthday party of his own. Well, he still technically wouldn’t have one, given this was a simple lunch, but by next year Michael was sure Harry will have made enough friends to invite for a birthday party and he could-

_Oh._

He was unusually silent for the rest of their lunch and, while the Grangers didn’t question it, Marie’s knowing look told him she might have an idea of what was going through his mind. Once lunch was done, they sang happy birthday to Harry, ate some cake - which Michael had brought once Marie was done decorating it - and took their little group to Kensington Gardens for a walk.

Watching Harry and Hermione talk excitedly, the latter pointing at the Peter Pan statue and probably regaling Harry with the tale of lost children and faeries from the known old book, only solidified his decision. Yes, he’d never quite wanted children of his own blood, but something in him felt he could never let go of the little boy he’d only just taken in. Incredible, he mused, how much one could change in a week.

“Mr Wright” Harry’s voice snapped him out of his musings and he looked down to see the boy’s hopeful look turned on him “can I get the book Hermione was talking about? With Peter Pan and the fairies in the garden? Please?” 

“Of course, we can stop by a bookshop on the way home” he answered, and couldn't help smiling at the sight of the boy’s resulting grin at the answer, watching as Harry runs back to Hermione’s side.

Incredible indeed.

“I might need a hand around the house” Marie pointed out, and Michael startedly realized she’d been standing by his side this whole time “since I have a feeling your temporary ward won’t be temporary for long.”

“We’ll hire some help, then” Michael refused to get flustered by how well she knew him anymore.

“You’re doing good, Mike” She assured him with a smile and a sideways hug.

“I hope so,” he admitted in a whisper, returning the embrace.

His decision, however, is not the one that matters, and he finds himself strangely reluctant to bring up the subject to Harry. His analytical mind points out it would be better to ask once the boy is more settled, probably in a month or so after he’s been in the new school long enough to form friendships and is more familiar with their little family and dynamics, but it feels awfully manipulative of him. On the other hand, the boy just had his first birthday celebration and is likely riding a happiness high, so asking right now would be equally manipulative. He sighs, cursing his habit of overthinking, and decides to ask when it feels right.

His instincts had yet to fail him, after all.

Their return to the house comes late in the afternoon, given Hermione had insisted on accompanying them to the library to retrieve Harry’s book and the Grangers could hardly say no to their little girl. A simple book retrieval turned into an afternoon of reading for the children, and Hugo shared with him his pleasure that his daughter had met someone as avidly interested in the written word as she is and thankfully near her age. Michael returned the sentiment fully, hardly thinking of anyone better to have become Harry’s first friend in this new environment. The group finally dispersed by six, with Marie leaving them for an apparent date, and Michael drove back an ecstatic Harry in possession of at least a dozen more books besides the one he’d asked for.

They were barely out of the car when a hoot stopped them in their tracks, and Michael looked up to the sight of an owl descending on them, landing on top of the car with a letter in its beak. He reached for it only to have it raise its talons at him.

“Oh, Cito!” Harry smiled, reaching up but not quite managing to reach the owl on top of the car.

“And she has something for you” Michael pointed out, a little put out for not being allowed to take the letter, but he supposed it was a good thing the owl somehow knew to deliver only to the recipient.

“Can you follow us in?” Harry asked, and he realized the boy was talking to the owl, who incredibly enough nodded at the question.

He resignedly took out his keys and unlocked the door to the house, leading Harry and the unusually smart owl into the sitting room, where Cito landed on the center table. Taking his time in locking the door and putting Harry’s gifts away in one of the couches, he watched the boy take the letter and open it, sitting on the armchair to read it. A few moments later, Harry held it out to him.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_I’m very sure Cito didn’t deliver my letter to the wrong person. She’s the smartest owl around, plus there’s no other Harry Potter in magical Britain besides you, and you can’t be a muggle because father charmed the letter so no muggle could read it. I asked father if the spell could have failed, but he said it couldn’t, and he’s always right._

_Father asked me to ask you who you’re living with, if you don’t know what I was talking about. Does that mean the books really aren’t true? I knew it, of course, but It would be nice to really know. Pansy will be disappointed, I'm sure. Anyway, do you live with muggles? That must be awful. Father says that if you give us an address, we could meet, and then we could teach you all about the magical world! Plus I could tell Pansy I met Harry Potter, since she didn’t believe you wrote to me, but I’ll prove it’s true and then she’ll stop bragging about her new broom all the time._

_I’ll tell Cito to wait on you again, since Father said you might not have your own owl to answer me with. We should get you an owl, the owlery in Diagon Alley has the prettiest ones!_

_Best wishes,_

_Draco Malfoy._

“What in the world…” Michael muttered as he puts down the letter, finding it too sincere to be some sort of elaborate prank, and yet having no idea what to make of its contents.

“What’s a muggle?” Harry asked, looking up at him from his seat, an open book already having found its way into his lap.

“I have no idea” he admitted “but I suppose there’s only one way to find out”

Leaving the letter on the center table, amused by the owl’s attempt at pecking his hand, Michael went to fetch a pen, some paper, and an envelope.


End file.
